


Ferry Markets

by Aithilin



Series: Festive Food Fluffs [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Galdin Quay was known for its peaceful waters and exceptional services, but Noctis only wanted to see the morning market before taking the ferry with Nyx. He just forgot the "morning" part of the markets.





	Ferry Markets

Galdin Quay was, first and always, a fishing village. It had been built up as such for generations before its calm blue bay was deemed suitable for trade within Lucis. Before the proximity to the Altissean waters, the Accordo waters, was considered a benefit to the Lucian economy. When it made the shift from a sleepy little fishing village to the primary trade port outside of Insomnia, it made it with the influence of Eos’ wealthy. Soon ship captains and merchants had seen the calm waters and pristine beach for the jewel that it was, and brought stories back with them to Tenebrae, and Niflheim, and Accordo, and Galahd. Its roads connecting it to Lestallum and Insomnia caused it to flourish, even as the generations of fishermen moved on to quieter waters. 

By the time the resort was built, with its pier extending out further than others across the waters to welcome the ferry loads of people from Accordo, Galdin Quay had already started the full transition from slepy fishing village to vacation spot. 

Noctis had only been there twice before now. Once when he was small and the trip to the beach so far away from home had been a great adventure. And again when he was travelling with his father to Altissia, where he recalled being excited to see the fish just outside his room’s window, glowing in the night dark waters like living night-lights. He remembered the morning they left— half asleep and clutching hit toy or caretaker at the time— and seeing the bustle of the morning markets in full swing. He remembered standing on the pier while the royal vessel was prepared, before Clarus or Cor lifted him on board, and watching the people on the shore more concerned with getting a good deal in the morning sun than with the royals. 

Seeing the morning markets had been one of the reasons he had agreed to this little stop on his officially sanctioned vacation. 

He had just forgotten that a morning market had the tendency to take place in the very early morning. 

And that he still greatly disliked the idea of an early morning.

It was hard to enjoy the markets he had been so excited about, when trudging after Nyx through the cold morning air. 

“There are markets like this all over Galahd,” Nyx was awake. He was alert and smiling, and Noctis hated him for it. Just a tiny bit. 

Just enough to glare and shove his hands into his pockets to ward off the cool breeze coming in over the ocean waves. Just enough to not lean in as Nyx guided him through the crowd with an arm thrown across his shoulders, as if he’d have the energy to run off. 

Stalls were marked by the canvas canopies that had gone up in the night— lined with careful strings of fairy lights here and there, crossing overhead like a festival avenue. At this edge of the fray, close to the resort that had housed them for the night, the stalls were all trinkets and wares— fabrics from Galahd and Cavaugh, patterned purses and bags, streamers and banners to hang in bland Lucian apartments. Noctis had seen them before in the community centres and festivals back home— the toys and trinkets of lively colours and mix-matched collections. An artist or five had set up together— spread themselves across two stalls to offer pictures and paintings, quick mementos sketched out under the lantern light before the sun rose, dots of watercolour bleeding across pages as they worked and haggled over the finished pieces. 

Noctis didn’t know where Nyx had found a coffee without leaving his side, but he accepted it gratefully in the chill. He breathed in the steam as he watched the artists work, as he poked through the cute toys from Galahd. 

And he made a face at the bitter strength of the roast as he sipped it. 

“Keep going, little star,” Nyx said as they wandered. “You’ll like it eventually.”

Another sip and it was tolerable in the morning chill. It was the warmth from the little paper cup that he wanted more than the bitter bite meant to alert him. He cradled it in his hands and followed Nyx’s lead. 

The deeper the went, the thicker the crowd became. The chatter carried on the ocean salt breeze, curled around the stalls with the steam from the morning foods, and wafted through the ebb and flow of early risers with the smell of fresh breads being offered up to every passerby. It was that smell, the rich, light weight of it that drew Noctis’ attention towards the depths of the market erected across the beach. Nyx grinned at his side as he stepped down from his leadership to follow.

Around them, the veteran visitors to the market hurried along their set routes— followed their set plans, checking off lists and chatting quietly together before they haggled. The tourists, like them, meandered through the stalls. They stopped and stared and examined with all the rush of the slow moving tides, the waves lapping at the distant piers and ferries as the first arrived with the rising sun. 

Noctis wasn’t sure which category they fit into. He was certainly the tourist, poking and peeking and following his nose to some new treasure. More awake now— and refusing to admit that the coffee had helped— he wandered between the stalls until he found the source of the breads; the baker who had a collection of battered and beaten ovens connected to some hulking and ancient generator as she pulled fresh, steaming buns from one after the other. The warmth chased away the ocean air, the smell a reminder of early morning escapades with Ignis down to the Citadel kitchens when he was young. He watched as the baker’s assistants bead the dough and twisted it into knots and shapes, as they smiled to their customers and offered samples to those wandering past. 

It was easy to stop and watch the rush of activity from the long stall, to linger in the heat cast out by the ovens in the cold morning air. As the sun rose over the waters and the lights that had crossed over the avenue dimmed in response. Nyx settled next to him with an arm around his waist, reading through the variety of buns and breads and treats still covered by steamed lids meant to keep the things warm, but obscuring them from the crowd. They appeared in the assistants’ hands as orders and requests were called out over the table, a cloud of steam released as the attendants grabbed what they could before the heat escaped and the magic was ruined. It was easy to watch the breads and buns, cookies and sweet knots appear in puffs of steam as lids were carefully lifted away and slammed back down in impossible time. 

As Noctis watched, Nyx made his request. 

Two little brown buns were passed to them over the counter, the magic of the sudden appearance of the baked goods happening between other orders. Noctis hadn’t realised that Nyx had ordered until the buns were being offered, still warm and soft and steaming, across the display for him to take. 

The rest of the coffee was downed as Nyx accepted the offered food for them, empty paper cups offered to Noctis as they moved along to make way for the next demanding patrons. 

“These are from Galahd,” Nyx explained once they had found a quiet corner. Once the dregs of the coffee had been discarded in the nearest bin and they had taken refuge from the morning crowd to watch the sunrise a few feet along on the beach. 

“You miss it,” Noctis said as he followed Nyx’s example in tearing a piece of the bread off— to find the bun stuffed with a filling he didn’t recognise. 

“You’d miss your home too, little star, if you were away from Lucis for years at a time.”

“I guess,” a careful taste of the filling had Noctis confused as he tried to place it. As he tried to work out the spices and texture and flavour the way he had seen Ignis do so many times like it was a second nature. “What is this?”

Nyx grinned at the show of hesitation, at the way Noctis scrunched his nose in his confusion out here on the beach, the markets flourishing the higher the morning sun rose over the waters and the first ferries of the day released new visitors into the crowd. “Shredded garula sausage, with a bit of a spice mix worked in. Don’t like it?”

“It’s…” another tentative taste and Noctis seemed to reach a conclusion; “interesting. I like it.”

Around them, as the morning crawled on, the stalls started to liven up their attempts to gain customers. Voices called over the dull roar of the general chatter, calls to taste and test, promises of freshness called out over the crowd. Nyx grinned as they watched the ferries move in and out of the bay, as the colours and crests of their home ports fluttered in the morning winds as the routes started or ended. 

Noctis was still half asleep, he decided, as he watched the lazy roll of the waves beneath the rising sun. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been up early enough to watch the sun shift through the morning haze, crawling its way upward to dispel the early chill still clinging to the remnants of night. He couldn’t remember the last time he watched the lights flicker and fade as the sun rose.

He leaned against the solid presence of Nyx next to him, the bun cooling in his hands. 

“Are you sure you want to go?” Nyx asked, brushing the remains of the bun from his own hands before slipping an arm back around Noctis to hold him close. “It’s a long ferry ride from Galdin Quay.”

“I’m sure,” Noctis savoured his for a moment longer, testing the strangeness of the texture, the spice, the flavour. He closed his eyes against the morning light and nibbled at the soft bread. “I want to go.”

“We’ll have enough time before our ferry to look through the fish stalls, if you want.”

“Do you even need to ask for that? I’m hungry now.”

“Hungry? You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Relaxed, not tired.”

“Let’s get you another coffee, just in case.”

They had been told that the fastest, easiest way to get to Galahd would be from one of the outposts beyond Insomnia’s northern gates, or through the port that led to the eastern gate. They had been offered the royal vessel, to make an event of it, a statement to the Imperial lines that still patrolled the borders of the allied nations in a show of force and power. 

Noctis had opted for a more quiet approach. 

He had wanted to see the markets first. 

As they walked back into the crowd and noise, they stopped here and there with the other tourists to gawk and admire the fresh catches for the morning. The tanks of sea creatures only sold as finished meals in Insomnia. The fried and battered and cooked portions of foods made from recipes collected from around Eos, presented in flimsy containers and skewered together in deals. They passed and sampled generous heapings of noodles with strange fish from Cavaugh, spiced eggs and meats from around Lucis, and the light freshwater creations and concoctions from the Niflheim outskirts. But they kept circling back through to the baker, with the steady, steaming, selection of buns and breads and now jams as a neighbouring stall moved to complement the offerings.

“Should we pick something up for your mother before we go?”

There were knots of sweet Lucian breads, loaves meant to be pulled apart one piece at a time and dipped, and little rolls drenched in sweet sauces and drizzled in cream. The decadence of Lucis at odds with the hidden warmth and spice of the Galahdian buns sampled before. 

“Get one for us too,” Nyx agreed, hands on Noctis’ hips as he let the prince make the decision this time; “food on ferries is always terrible.”


End file.
